


Only Way Down

by Entity_Sylvir



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Continuation, I won't say fix-it but..., Just a little ficlet, M/M, Spoilers, post Wrath Of The Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entity_Sylvir/pseuds/Entity_Sylvir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He might just remember, though, a tall outlined figure. Leathery skin and sharp antlers, glowing silver against the black sky.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Way Down

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [tumblr](http://tumbleweedforyou.tumblr.com/post/127780918666/hes-known-pain-in-his-belly-and-across-his).

He’s known pain, in his belly, and across his head, but this is not pain this is ice. White-cold in the blood that runs down his face, his own, to mix with more on his hands, not his own. Not his own.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, and it all is but he doesn’t hear his own words above the sing on his fingertips and the old familiar warmth which cradles him.

They’ll be here soon, the people he alerted with that little button sewn into his shirt pocket just in case because he’d known,  _known_  from the beginning that there’d be something. And he knows now the only way is down.

He doesn’t remember hitting the water, salt stinging the long cuts in his flesh, washing them clean. He doesn’t remember the hand closing around his good shoulder, the drag of the wooden deck under his back. Words whispered in his ear.

“He didn’t want it to be easy, he knew to shoot me so I would live.”

_He knew exactly how to cut you._

He might just remember, though, a tall outlined figure. Leathery skin and sharp antlers, glowing silver against the black sky.

It should have killed him. It all should have killed them, six times over, and he’s unsure it hasn’t even as he opens his eyes to the morning, first aid kit gauze across one half of his face and the bunk firm beneath his back. The cliffs stretch up in front as mercilessly gorgeous as they had been when they’d anchored there that afternoon for the long winding climb up—far, too far to reach. But yet they had.

A million in one chance, every star aligning to draw them through. A true devil’s miracle, because he didn’t live. He became.

Then Hannibal steps into his half-blurred vision and reaches out a single hand to place upon his, fingers twining, skin scraped but soft, and warm,  _warm_. Then suddenly he isn’t unsure.

And Will Graham pulls up his torn cheek, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Say they knew they had to ditch the car so they took a boat sometime after the one driving shot, they managed to anchor at a tiny beach around the corner of the sheer cliffs and found a long winding way up. It bought time with law enforcement but took long enough for Dolarhyde to put things together. Will knows how to sail.


End file.
